It’s just one after another. In and out. Nowadays, dating is less like a casino and more like a deli.
Isn’t that how everyone thought of it? A casino? Next spin they will win big at the roulette table? Maybe this number will be their jackpot. No? Alright, either they try at this table again or move on to the next, no time for lollygagging.
Now it’s a total deli. Come in, take a number. Wait to get called on. Order your cuts and don’t forget to wrap it. Say have a nice day, then get out.
Once he or she takes their cuts home, they realize too late they were handed round and not ribeye like they asked. They try to cook it and eat it and complain the whole time, or they try to take it back and demand a refund.
An emotional refund. Give them back the piece of themselves they gave to you so you will both forget it ever happened.
But you can’t, all sales are final. The aftertaste will linger. Your face will scrunch up when you think of the deli, but you go back because your appetite is too strong.
Some people can say they regret not having kept the first cut of meat they bought. Some wish they could buy more.
I wish dating was a casino again, then it would feel at least somewhat exciting.
Even then, the house always wins.
Forest
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